


five foot two wonder

by AngstCake43



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Nighttime, Post-Episode 36, ungoldy hour confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstCake43/pseuds/AngstCake43
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fighting ends, Laura has a bad habit of checking up on Carmilla, unable to trust her eyes, and every night, Carmilla lets her. Tonight, was a little different, a small change, but to Carmilla, it was everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five foot two wonder

**Author's Note:**

> This might have already been done (since I reblogged from a hollstein writers blog aha), but I saw a prompt on tumblr about this, and I HAD to write it. 
> 
> Ungodly hour confessions are my favorite.

Its always the small disturbances in life that change us the most. My death was just another accident, Ell was just another girl, and Laura was just another annoying roommate. Everything about her is small: her eyes, her hands, her shoulders. In comparison to Danny, she looks like a mouse, but somehow a personality that could barely be crammed into a two-bed flat had managed to exist inside her. Its a miracle she hasn't exploded yet.

That’s why I’m confused when I feel the weight of the bed shift. Her knee, arm then torso find the edges of my bed, as if she’s afraid of touching me, maybe even waking me up. I almost laugh at the reasoning of it; she’s already on my bed, might as well jump on me bouncing around like the puppy she is. The springs creaked, but barely. Its not every day you hear Laura genuinely attempting at being quiet. My eyelids feel light when I open them; my sleep was interrupted anyway. I let them adjust - which doesn't take long, vampiric constitution and all - staring at deep indigo which would transform to pale cream in the morning. Amazing how the night changes us. Before I could think of a sarcastic comment about her being afraid of the dark, I felt the small pads of her fingertips against my back. Ever since I came back, she’s been doing this. Almost every night. I guess she’s still a little scared she’ll wake up and see my empty bed.

(The reason why I came back to her was because I didn't want to see my right empty either.)

One of the things I hate the most about super hearing is the _lub dub_ of heart beats. It wasn't the hunger. It never was, and sometimes I wish it really was the reason, because knowing what it meant was often times worse. What the deep and fast pounding of a heart meant _especially_ if they were crawling into your bed at god knows what hour. I let scenarios roll in my head, and stop immediately when they start getting pornographic.

(Jeez, what am I, _fifteen_?)

I scowl silently at the wall. What’s even more frustrating than how desperate I am, is the fact that Laura hasn't moved a single inch from where she initially was. The tips of her fingers were starting to mix with my colder skin, and I couldn't tell where I ended and she started, her warmth pooling into me and my coldness reaching out to her. I used every inch of my centuries old willpower to not move.

Why? I don’t really know either. I felt like a spring waiting to be sprung, and Laura was the mouse I was about to catch. When she finally does move, I’m a little shocked, partially because of how much warmer she actually is. Mostly because all she usually does is touch and then leave. But tonight is different. Tracing slow patterns into my back, I hear her sigh contently, and slowly her loops start getting wider and farther apart. As fatigue settles within her and the tracing slows, the aimless shape becomes words, falling back into place like puzzle pieces.

(Truly, she is a miracle.)

Her hand drops first, leg, then hip. I don’t let her get any further. I turn, slowly, carefully, deliberately. The moment I start moving she knows I’m awake, I know because she freezes, like a deer caught in headlights. I circle my longer fingers around her smaller wrist, easily touching my forefinger with my thumb.

“Come back.”

Her shoulders relax and the stiffness peels away. I lift the covers and she shuffles under them, tucking into me, pressing against me, letting every inch of her know that I’m still here. She’s small. And honestly, I’m not that much taller or bigger in any way, but in my hold she is, folding into me, making herself seem minuscule. Tonight, her personality is just as small as she is. And somehow, between nagging me about dishes, accusing me of thievery, and picking at my personality, I managed to tumble right into her. I trace the outer rim of her ear, sweeping away hair as I go and kiss the spot right underneath her ear lobe. I replay the words she wrote on my back, in my head, imagining her voice and face each time, calling out to me silently. I give her a voice, my mouth mimics the shapes her mouth makes.

“I love you too.”


End file.
